


how the mighty have fallen

by kadotoriku



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Era, Canon Universe, Gen, Levi-centric (Shingeki no Kyojin), Major Illness, POV Alternating, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadotoriku/pseuds/kadotoriku
Summary: A person can learn to defeat Titans, but there are many unknown and unaccounted variables in battle. A person can learn to kill people, but there are many unwilling to lie down and take it. A person can learn to prevent illness, but there are many diseases that are incurable and unconquerable.One faithful day, Captain Levi falls ill.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	how the mighty have fallen

In the Underground, dirt and grime is a constant presence. Literal shit and other fucking fantastic shit permeate the air with their stench, the smell of death so thick Levi could almost taste the rotten flesh with his tongue. Sickness was not uncommon there—never is, never will be. Not unless the complicit government and fat nobles of Sina decide to salvage the flock of abandoned people out of the goodness of their golden hearts. Common colds can spread like ancient plagues, with only word of mouth and the occasional deciphered medical text being used as guides on what to avoid and what to do.

And in the midst of criminals selling bastardized medicines and backroom doctors offering placebo remedies that cost a kidney, Levi eventually discovered one constant and unwavering protection against disease:

Cleaning.

He originally didn’t know how or why it worked, but it just did.

So he cleaned.

Scrubbing down the floors until his fingers bled and became calloused from the treatment, wiping down glass windows until they sparkled and he can see his nonexistent soul in the panes, and painstakingly keeping all material objects (especially clothes and utensils) free of dust as much as possible.

His “immune system”, as Erwin once told him with that obnoxious rich Sina boy accent of his, must be resilient and strong for him to rarely fall ill in such a place. Hange, who was the most medically qualified person present in Erwin’s office during their sappy heart-to-heart session, agreed with him.

That, combined with his obsession with cleanliness, has spared him many nights accommodating runny noses and laying on the bed with barely enough energy to lift a pinky.

He _has_ gotten sick before, though; headaches from stress and that unspeakable crash after returning from his first expedition without his two dearest friends. But nothing majorly _life-threatening_ besides the occasional shitty migraines that persist for half a day. He never suffered from brittle bones ( _vitamin deficiency, commonly due to a lack of sunlight_ ) nor coughed the contents of his lungs ( _flu, pneumonia_ ) like many in the Underground did.

Which is why he’s caught off-guard to wake up one morning with a splitting headache and blood leaking out of his nose.

*

Hange’s a touchy-feely person, finding self-expression easier when they can regale tales with dramatic hand gestures and when they can give comforting touches in situations where the right words elude them. They’re always on the move, body adept to whizzing around as if wearing the 3DM gear and hair a constant mess from their inability to hold still.

And it’s a beautiful day today! The weather oddly cooperative with the plans for a drill for the entire corps only a few days away. New recruits have to learn the intricacies of one of Erwin’s many brainchildren because Goddess knows how often newbies accidentally swerve too far at the sight of a green flare or use the wrong colored signal for whatever reason.

Humming to themself, Hange strides out of their office in a cheerful mood. It’s still early in the morning and most soldiers are still waking up so the halls are empty. It just-so-happens that Hange crashed directly after dinner yesternight in their office, which is why they woke up (in Levi’s eloquent words) at “ass o’clock”.

But can you blame them? The experiments with Eren have been coming along nicely! So much so that he and Squad Levi are tentatively allowed to stay in the main headquarters with the rest of the Survey Corps instead of a dingy old castle in the middle of nowhere! So many possibilities now that Eren can perform basic motor skills and follow Hange’s instructions.

“Levi! Good morning!”

They tackle Levi in a hug as the two of them cross at a corner, both of them nearly falling over from the impact.

_...Huh?_

Levi tenses up but doesn’t instantly shove them away like he usually does when the two of them playfight.

That reaction (or lack thereof) instantly has Hange on edge as they feel a light push on their stomach but no icy _fuck off_ ’s or threats of dismemberment. They know that Levi secretly enjoys the physical affection and lack of hard feelings so... so...

Hange takes a step back and pulls their hands away, frowning.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, Hange,” Levi dismisses, inching away as they straighten up to get a good look at him. “Feel a bit like shit, but nothin’ a day doing Erwin’s biddin’ won’t probably fix.”

“I know he’s a slave driver sometimes but you look terrible.” Hange winces at their blunt word choice, but don’t rectify it because Levi was practically an inch away from toppling over from Hange’s hug attack.

Levi! The midget made of sixty kilos of superhuman ultrahard steel that can terrify an entire room of trained soldiers with a single glare! _That_ Levi!

“ _I’ll be fine_ ,” he emphasizes.

The change of wording is not lost to Hange.

“You can call a sick day. Do you want me to—”

“No.”

“Are you _sure_ sure? You—”

“Yes.”

Hange sighs, disappointed, dipping their head downward and recognizing a losing battle when they see one. Levi could have a sword sticking out of his stomach and he’ll insist on being fine, bringing up his quick healing and resilient immune system. Which... true but that doesn’t mean Hange doesn’t have the right to be _worried_.

They back off from the topic...

For now.

If Levi doesn’t seem better from this... this _dizzy spell_ soon, Hange’ll have to gather reinforcements for an intervention.

*

The first thing Petra notices as she brings in the captain’s tea is that he’s gotten paler.

It’s not a trick of the light, her mind insists, not when the saturation of his skin is almost as white as a fresh sheet of paper despite the candle’s orange glow. She’s aware of the rumors that he used to be an infamous criminal in the Underground, the city abandoned by the King and left to never experience the warmth of daylight. It’s no surprise that his skin is lighter than majority of the soldiers.

But, even when Petra was a newbie, he’s never been _this_ pale.

She strides towards his desk, tray shaking ever-so-slightly in her hands. Even the other soldiers with snow white complexions find themselves darkening from the amount of training they do under the sun. Yes, their uniforms cover up a lot, but Levi’s exposed face and hands seem like they’re becoming impossibly _lighter_. All the color has bled and been washed away from his skin, like a drop of paint diluted in a large glass of water.

“Thank you, Petra,” he says as she sets down the tray on his desk.

“You’re welcome, Captain.”

After returning his nod, there’s a small pause as she gives in to temptations to study her superior up close despite the silent dismissal.

The captain is busy leaning on the back of his chair and reading paragraphs of typewritten text, his other hand looping its fingers around the teacup’s handle to bring it to his lips. He seems relatively tranquil despite the mountain of work he has to do.

 _He looks well_ , Petra reassures to herself. _If he’s really sick, then he must know his limits and when to rest_.

It may be that the captain is simply overfatigued or undergoing a period of exhaustion. Perhaps he took medicine or visited a medic earlier, and he’ll be all better by tomorrow.

Realizing that she might be bordering on impolite and might be overstaying on her welcome, she then turns to leave. She doesn’t want to be nosy.

Petra quietly exits the office just as Levi sets down his cup on the plate with a soft _clink_.

And she politely does not make mention of his hand’s shaking as he did so.

*

“You think he’s sick?”

Eld sets down his pen and turns his full attention to Petra as she flutters around their barracks, concern rolling off of her in waves. She only now returned from tea duty and the first thing she did is tell them all of her earlier experience with Captain Levi.

“I don’t know, but he might be,” Petra says.

“Have we ever actually seen him sick? As in, _bedridden_?” Gunther asks, thoughtful.

“I... I don’t _think_ so...?”

Worry creases Eld’s brow because they all know that their collective answer to Gunther’s question is _no_.

It makes him think back to the day before. The captain seemed perfectly fine and healthy and as sarcastic as ever—not a single hair out of place as he gave constructive criticism on their spins during gear practice and kicked all their asses during the hand-to-hand combat period.

“He might be hiding it to seem strong,” Oluo suggests.

A pause.

“...Are you sure his paleness and shaking wasn’t a trick of the light?” Gunther sighs when Petra shakes her head. “Then if it isn’t, we should try to make Captain Levi’s job easier. We’ll give him our silent support and monitor his condition to be safe. If it gets bad, then maybe tell Section Commanders Hange and/or Miche...”

While they, Squad Levi, know more of the elusive “Humanity’s Strongest” figure and know more of the _person_ behind the title than most people do, they’re not immune to seeing him as resilient and unbeatable by all adversity. Eld doesn’t need to raise a finger to count the number of times he’s seen the captain falter or succumb to defeat because it’s basically _zero_.

Levi is stubborn when it comes to medical treatment, waving off injuries as if they’re _nothing_. Try as they must to pester him, it takes a team effort with Miche, Hange, and Commander Erwin to get the man to stand down and rest.

...But hopefully they’re all worrying over nothing and the captain will be back to his complete self by tomorrow. Eld would rather not think of what he’d do if it were the opposite, but all people get sick in at least one point of their lives, don’t they? Maybe Captain Levi just needs a few days off to recover and bounce back from this.

Eld brings his knee close to his chest and listens carefully to Gunther.

*

While she has a lingering grudge for his violence towards Eren during the military tribunal, Mikasa does not necessarily wish for genuine harm to come onto Captain Levi.

He’s preparing his tea at the moment, a container water boiling nearby so he can pour it into the pot.

Mikasa doesn’t pay him much mind, more concentrated on washing dishes as the others assigned on dinner clean-up duty do their jobs cleaning the mess hall. She glances at him from the corner of her eyes when he lets out a few coughs, attentive but not alarmed as of yet.

That’s when she sees that something come out of his mouth that’s almost the same crimson shade as her scarf.

Levi’s handkerchief is stained with dark liquid mixed with saliva and phlegm, blood that has long dried up from earlier in the day. He wipes his bloody lips, attempting to conceal the stains by turning his back at Mikasa’s. It would work if she hasn’t seen it already.

Uncertainty bubbles up inside of her, unsure of how much she should go about this. What’s the protocol in situations like this? She should probably start with niceties and ask if the captain is okay (even if he visibly isn’t)...

Before she can formulate a sentence, however, Captain Levi fills up his teapot with hot water. He picks up his tray, as if in a haste, and turns to Mikasa.

“You’re washing that,” he says in reference to the water container, his voice deceptively calm. “Do it properly.”

“Sir—”

He leaves before she can say another word.

*

The difference between human and Titan blood (besides the obvious fact that Titan blood evaporates instantaneously) is that Titan blood smells rotten. It’s barely noticeable to most people amidst the thick and scorching hot steam it turns into, but Miche has enough experience to recognize the smell.

Human blood, on the other hand, is metallic. While it decomposes and eventually comes to smell _similar_ to Titan blood, people have a lot more going on in their bloodstream. Those fancy nutrients and vitamins stuff come to mind.

What Miche caught in the air is _human_ blood, just a small amount that slipped through the cracks of an overpowering cologne that’s attempting to mask it. It’s not as acidic as period blood, something Miche occasionally catches among members of the opposite sex, instead it’s...

It’s the smell of an _injury_.

And there’s something foul attached to it. Resembling a plague. Weakness. A slow death as a result of illness sapping of one’s strength.

“Levi,” Miche calls.

A cat provoked, Levi defensively bears his claws the instant he sees the concern in Miche’s face.

“Fuck off, Muzzle,” he snarks.

“Have you at least been to the—”

“No.”

A tense pause.

There’s a stand-off between the two of them, neither willing to back down.

“...Sit this exercise out,” Miche says, even as Levi turns to face away from him. The captain can’t risk walking away because he knows Miche can and will yell that _Captain Levi is sick_ to the entire corps if need be.

“You’re a hands-off leader. So let your squad get used to working _with_ Eren and _without_ you.”

Behind Levi, Hange spots the two men conversing. Their happy-go-luck grin disappears instantly, replaced by a solemn seriousness that has Miche straightening up in alertness. Hange makes a gesture towards the forest, a signal that they want to talk to him in a bit afterwards.

He nods at them before turning his attention back to Levi.

“...Okay,” Levi begrudgingly says through grit teeth. Though the captain and section commander ranks may be of equal standing, Miche has superiority in terms of experience and length of time as an officer.

He surrenders, gives up this _one_ fight, and doesn’t bother doing another one of his typical mocking salutes, instead simply turning around to go look for his squad. Not giving Miche anymore time of his day.

_Rose, what are we going to do with this guy?_

Miche pinches the bridge of his nose. While he may have gotten this small victory, but there’s still an uphill _war_ up ahead of him.

*

A scratchy cough sounds through the mess hall.

Jean looks up from his book, a touch bit concerned at the sheer dryness of the sound. It’s a scratchy wheeze, faint enough that it breezes through the room without causing much alarm. But there’s a hint of phlegm towards the end, the kind that makes him shudder from the sound of someone nearly vomiting out the moisture of their throat.

Only a few soldiers are present, seeing as how they all participated in the corps-wide training exercise yesterday that lasted well into the evening. Most are still in a daze, too busy fighting off sleep or too invested in their own conversations to put much attention to the coughing.

At the table where the Special Operations Squad normally sit, only Captain Levi is present. His teammates are nowhere in sight. Not really a cause for concern considering the early hour.

What _does_ worry Jean, however, is Levi’s sickly appearance.

If it was anyone else, he’d just politely ignore the coughs and simply give his silent good wishes for that person to get better. But it’s the _captain_ he’s talking about here. _It’s a bit weird_ , Jean supposes. Because even he himself has the strange disconnected belief that the formidable soldier is untouchable by mere things such as _sickness_.

_...And has Captain Levi always been that skinny?_

Jean chews on his lip. He’s an artist, he’s come to develop an eye for detail and a skill of simplifying facial features to replicate on paper. The captain has been one of his drawings’ subjects before with his rounded cheeks, formidable build, impeccably trimmed eyebrows, and undercut hairstyle. His entire person _screamed_ of good grooming and proper hygiene.

But now Captain Levi looks... well, not necessarily _gaunt_ but _thinner_. Like his muscles weigh more than he can handle and remaining upright is a challenge on its own. He’s _swaying_ in his seat and Jean doesn’t know what to do.

There’s something unsettling at seeing his superior stubbornly clutch his spoon in a death grip. The most basic of motor skills exhausts Levi at an alarming rate, and his eyes are dazed as if lost in his own mental world. His usual sharp and piercing stare has been replaced by a blank and distant one.

Jean makes a mental note to tell Eren about it since the hothead _is_ a member of Squad Levi and is frequently interacting with the other officers. It might be overstepping boundaries if it were _Jean_ prying into shit he shouldn’t concern himself with, and personally approaching to ask how Levi is doing is a terrifying idea that gets thrown into the mental rejection bin immediately.

Then, Captain Levi blinks slowly.

And stares back at Jean with a raised eyebrow.

It’s an inquiry, a dare, a _challenge_ for Jean to speak up, who only then realizes now how much he’s been impolitely staring.

Feeling his face flush at getting caught by his superior, Jean hastily whips his head back the fuck down. He shovels a portion of the food into his mouth and tries to pretend that he hasn’t been gawking at the captain like some sort of art display.

Maybe Captain Levi isn’t so sickly as he originally thought, then, if he can still terrorize and intimidate people. Dry cough can come from screaming too much, can’t it? Or dehydration? Maybe allergies too?

Jean swallows the strange taste in his mouth, he himself unsure if it’s caused by the internal wave of nervousness or by the actual flavor of the food today.

*

They’re in a classroom, with Captain Levi scribbling plans and contingencies onto the blackboard. There are many arrows, many crude drawings, and many considerations for Eren’s potential statuses and level of control over his abilities.

He has to memorize and study as much of it as possible, engrave them all into his memory using the sweltering heat of the outside sun, because he’s not allowed to write any of this classified information down. Even if Eren is a tad bit confused as to why he can’t tell his friends these things, he obeys and remains dutifully silent as the captain explains a possible maneuver where a soldier uses Eren’s Titan form as leverage in an open field.

“You’re only to... you’re only to transform when you have explicit permission to do so,” Levi reminds him. “Only Erwin, Miche, Hange, and I have the authority. The other two other section commanders hold no power over your Titan. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good. But in the case that you do shift... you must be conscious of any hooks embedded into your skin. Hange said... that you don’t feel any pain while in your Titan?”

“None, sir.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen my squad practice the spin maneuvers in the forest. One day, you might learn it too.” A large stickman meant to represent Eren is at the center of the blackboard, standing on top of a line. “Based on Trost, Titans seem attracted to you like a... mega-sized human. So. You shouldn’t remain still when your comrades are using you as a bigass tree... but that _doesn’t_ mean you should recklessly crush others in the process.”

A nod. “Sir.”

“Depending how good your control is, you should master handling things delicately as well. There may come a situation where a comrade is injured and you must transport them as a Titan. For example...”

There’s a lot of good points and plans that the captain makes, and Eren aims to absorb as much as possible. He unconsciously rubs the junction of his thumb and palm, the spot he typically bites to transform into a Titan. All these plans and strategies are admittedly overwhelming, but he isn’t going to give up, not when much of humanity is depending on his cooperation.

Captain Levi is scribbling on the blackboard as he continues speaking. Eren listens attentively, using that stock of willpower he has to fully comprehend everything. His index finger mimics the diagrams on the desk he’s sitting at, drawing shapes and writing words, and Levi turns around to ask him a question.

_Bam!_

“ _Sir_ —!” Eren jerks back and stands up, biting back an expletive. His chair makes a horrid screeching noise as he rushes over to older man who’s leaning on the wooden desk as his legs threaten to give out under him.

“Fucking _shit_ —”

Levi grips onto the edge of the wooden desk, nearly crushing the corner in his grasp, and shields his eyes with the slap of a palm. “So... bright...”

Eren rushes to shut the windows.

Unsure if it’s sensory overload, he takes large steps to close the gap between the captain and himself. “Sir?” He comes to a halt an arm’s length away from him.

Heavy breaths tear through the silence like wet paper, each pant and gulp for air provoking stabs of concern in Eren’s chest. The lack of reply is almost enough to send him into a panic, but he reigns himself in and carefully risks resting a hand on Levi’s elbow.

The captain’s hand not on the desk shoots out and grabs his arm in a death grip, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket tightly. Eren winces at the surprising show of force, startled, but offers more of his arm in case Levi wants to ground himself from the wave of pain he must be experiencing.

“You can lean on me, sir,” Eren says, but isn’t sure if the captain can even _hear_ him.

He receives no reply.

Jean told Eren of Levi’s current condition, and so did the other members of Squad Levi. They all told him to be careful and mindful when around his superior because something is amiss that Levi isn’t admitting to. They explained that it’s possibly why the captain didn’t attend the expedition drill earlier.

This doesn’t seem like your typical headache that goes away after a good rest, this honestly seems like something _more_.

Eren isn’t too sure what’s going on behind the scenes but the human body is a persistent little thing that’s all too capable of working itself to the bone.

His father taught him medicine, showed him the horrors that could tear down a person from the inside, and trained him to look for the subtle signs because humans are stubborn, unwavering. Many refuse facts despite the heaps of evidence right in front of their noses. Others avoid facing the truth because they know it’ll bring nothing but despair and undisputable proof of weakness.

The pieces come together in his mind.

He collects the signs, analyzes them, and draws his own conclusions.

Eren doesn’t like what exactly he concludes.

*

They’re in his private chambers, the one so uncommonly used because Levi has always preferred sleeping in his office. Furniture has been cleaned by hands not Levi’s own, with an untouched plate of food resting on the bedside table and gathering dust. A doctor’s bag lays on the foot of the bed, wide open in the hopes of an opportunity to use the life-saving equipment within.

“I told you to rest, Levi.”

Erwin digs his fingers into his upper arms, turning to look outside the window because he can not bear to look at the man he considers his equal for long. There are still fingerprints on the glass and he can’t help but spare a thought that Levi would have the head of whoever did the pathetic attempt of wiping it.

His friend will forever remain in slumber and the throes of rest, perhaps unexpectedly at peace now that his life is no longer bound by blood and eternal fighting. Levi is no longer chained to duty, no longer cursed to be an eternal witness to the many deaths of the undeserving, no longer forced to live with the fact that he possesses superior strength yet not enough strength to save everyone.

No one knows when he took his last breath nor when his heart made its last beat, just as much as no one knows when he had his first of both.

He’s as still as a statue. The contours of his face no longer marred by stress lines. His chest no longer rising and falling to the rhythm of a living soul. He’s no boy and they both know that his age is close behind Erwin’s, but he appears similar to one in this state of rest.

“You know that there are many times I hate being right.”

There’s no response, no snarky remark, no sarcastic wit.

Only deafening silence.

They’ve talked about the topic of death before with Hange and Miche, jokingly designing elaborate gravestones and seriously making records of their final wishes. Levi’s been voted as the man most likely to live the longest, teased with the ridiculous moniker the public has given him. Miche does so the most seeing as it was _him_ that was originally known as the Strongest.

The Survey Corps is no stranger to death, no stranger to stolen youth and shortened lives. New recruits tend to die off before they can truly learn to fly, with the survivors at constant risk of having their wings clipped by monstrous hordes of danger.

Levi survived around thirty years in “that Underground hellhole” and lived through many expeditions in No Man’s Land. He faced the Titans with not a single ounce of fear, tearing through their seemingly endless numbers with a ferocity that gave way to hope of lesser death rates. It’s been joked about that Levi won’t die easily if somehow swallowed by a Titan, all too powerful that he’ll either cut through the beast’s stomach with a blunt blade or the Titan will simply explode from being unable to contain his power.

A sigh.

What a tragedy this is.

Erwin’s eyes meet Levi’s through his closed eyelids and reflects.

The future has always been bleak, but now it seems to have dimmed that not even _he_ is sure of what’s to come. He wishes he can mourn and cycle through the stages of grief like any man who’s lost a loved one, but there are far too many matters he has to attend to. He still has responsibilities, still has his job and role as the commander of an organization that _needs_ his leadership.

Still.

He can’t help but morbidly think.

How dreadfully ironic is it that the man known as Humanity’s Strongest Soldier succumbs not to Titans nor human enemies, but to his own mortality?

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a few days sick as all hell from alleged food poisoning. My catharsis came in the form of making my faves suffer with me. Found an [old prompt on snkkink](https://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/3666.html?thread=6073426#cmt6073426) and decided to give it a whirl. Everyone's freaking out over Season 4 and Levi's entrance while I'm here writing him dying hahah oops.
> 
> Come find me on my [SNK Twitter](https://twitter.com/kadotoriku) and [Dreamwidth](https://kadotoriku.dreamwidth.org/). If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions. Thank you for reading! :D


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